She was full of contradictions, and he just didn’t seem to be able to get ahold of her—on any level. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he knew it, she was striding off back down the street toward the sheriff’s office, her right hand adjusting the position of her gun on her hip. His mouth watered.
“Thanks for lunch,” she called, flicking her hand in a dismissive wave. “See you around.”
Chapter 5
It was late when she arrived home, and the dogs were waiting for her to feed them, but she could tell he’d been at the house again that day. Her boys were relaxed as though someone had kept them entertained, burned off some of their energy. Energy she wished she had.
She dragged her feet as she walked into the kitchen. She could barely lift her arm to pour a can of soup into a pan and heat it up, but she did it anyhow.
It had been a long day, starting early with a shooting at the local store. One of the young cashiers, Billy Bob Lowell, had been shot in the thigh. He howled and screamed so loud he almost brought the whole town out to see. She had a passing thought of popping him on the end of his chin just to shut him up.
The shooter had jumped into an old, gray Camaro, screeched out on to the highway at nearly ninety miles an hour, according to witnesses. Bill seriously doubted the car had the capacity to go that fast, bearing in mind what the witnesses had told her about its ancient state.
They hadn’t managed to catch the perpetrator.
She’d spent most of her day at the hospital with the sniveling, whining kid from the store. It wasn’t as though the bullet hit anything important. In fact, it had only winged him. He wasn’t even able to claim they fished the bullet out of him as it had only scraped the top layer of skin off, and then lodged itself in the wooden boards of one of the display units behind him.
She and Ethan had drawn the short straw this time and had to follow through with a visit back to the store to take witness statements, and there were a lot of them. Too many people wanted to take the limelight. Too many people loved drama. Personally, she simply wanted the facts. Cold hard facts, so she could do her job, catch the perpetrator, and go home to bed.
Jack and the other deputies had scoured the area looking for the Camaro. They found it late in the afternoon, left it for fingerprinting, and Jack had told them all to go home. Tomorrow they would continue to search for the perp. They’d find him. Someone would know who it was as gun crime was fairly rare in the area.
Bill poured the soup into a mug so she could walk around the house with it in her hand while it cooled.
She could smell him. Gentle, subtle smell, but him all the same. His scent gave her a warm yearning she’d never known before. It had been like that for ten days now. Ten days of coming home late in the evening and catching his aroma.
She’d seen him a few times since the softball game and the quick lunch trip with Jack, but Michael was always with one of her brothers or her cousins.
They had to pass through her kitchen to reach the gym, so they often stopped to have a cup of coffee with her. Most the time, she’d been on her way out to work.
She thought about how much effort her male relations were going to in order to protect her from someone she really didn’t want to be protected from. It was strange for them, she supposed. She had never shown an interest in any of the boys she’d grown up with. She’d have sooner blacked their eye as have sex with them.
Michael, though, well Michael was different.
When he was in the same room as her, he watched her lazily, his deep green eyes calm as a millpond, but underneath, if she cared to look close, she thought she could see a storm brewing. She tried not to look too close. She’d never been frightened of anything, but there was something about him that gave her reason to fear. Not him. She wasn’t scared of him, but instead it was the reaction he seemed to
“Thanks for lunch,” she called, flicking her hand in a dismissive wave. “See you around.”
Chapter 5
It was late when she arrived home, and the dogs were waiting for her to feed them, but she could tell he’d been at the house again that day. Her boys were relaxed as though someone had kept them entertained, burned off some of their energy. Energy she wished she had.
She dragged her feet as she walked into the kitchen. She could barely lift her arm to pour a can of soup into a pan and heat it up, but she did it anyhow.
It had been a long day, starting early with a shooting at the local store. One of the young cashiers, Billy Bob Lowell, had been shot in the thigh. He howled and screamed so loud he almost brought the whole town out to see. She had a passing thought of popping him on the end of his chin just to shut him up.
The shooter had jumped into an old, gray Camaro, screeched out on to the highway at nearly ninety miles an hour, according to witnesses. Bill seriously doubted the car had the capacity to go that fast, bearing in mind what the witnesses had told her about its ancient state.
They hadn’t managed to catch the perpetrator.
She’d spent most of her day at the hospital with the sniveling, whining kid from the store. It wasn’t as though the bullet hit anything important. In fact, it had only winged him. He wasn’t even able to claim they fished the bullet out of him as it had only scraped the top layer of skin off, and then lodged itself in the wooden boards of one of the display units behind him.
She and Ethan had drawn the short straw this time and had to follow through with a visit back to the store to take witness statements, and there were a lot of them. Too many people wanted to take the limelight. Too many people loved drama. Personally, she simply wanted the facts. Cold hard facts, so she could do her job, catch the perpetrator, and go home to bed.
Jack and the other deputies had scoured the area looking for the Camaro. They found it late in the afternoon, left it for fingerprinting, and Jack had told them all to go home. Tomorrow they would continue to search for the perp. They’d find him. Someone would know who it was as gun crime was fairly rare in the area.
Bill poured the soup into a mug so she could walk around the house with it in her hand while it cooled.
She could smell him. Gentle, subtle smell, but him all the same. His scent gave her a warm yearning she’d never known before. It had been like that for ten days now. Ten days of coming home late in the evening and catching his aroma.
She’d seen him a few times since the softball game and the quick lunch trip with Jack, but Michael was always with one of her brothers or her cousins.
They had to pass through her kitchen to reach the gym, so they often stopped to have a cup of coffee with her. Most the time, she’d been on her way out to work.
She thought about how much effort her male relations were going to in order to protect her from someone she really didn’t want to be protected from. It was strange for them, she supposed. She had never shown an interest in any of the boys she’d grown up with. She’d have sooner blacked their eye as have sex with them.
Michael, though, well Michael was different.
When he was in the same room as her, he watched her lazily, his deep green eyes calm as a millpond, but underneath, if she cared to look close, she thought she could see a storm brewing. She tried not to look too close. She’d never been frightened of anything, but there was something about him that gave her reason to fear. Not him. She wasn’t scared of him, but instead it was the reaction he seemed to
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